Chapter 22 — Growlithe
"Ouch—!"
Herdier had no way to evade the Supersonic at that range. It could only endure the full force of the sound wave crashing over it. Within seconds, its eyes glazed over, its legs began to shake, and it stumbled in place—fully confused.
Colby's expression turned grim.
There was nothing he could do. Once a Pokémon fell into confusion, issuing careless commands risked making things worse. A confused Pokémon attacked randomly, and if its Trainer pushed it to act, it might hurt itself or waste energy on nothing.
The correct approach was to stay quiet and wait for an opening.
But Gary wasn't going to give him one.
"Move in. Poison Fang."
Golbat folded its wings slightly and dove toward Herdier.
Colby reacted immediately. "Herdier—Bite!"
Herdier, barely conscious of its surroundings, snapped blindly at the air. Its confused state made it lash out in the wrong direction entirely.
A fraction of a second later, Golbat arrived at Herdier's side and sank its fangs deep into its flank. The venom-laced bite sent a jolt of sharp, immediate pain through Herdier's body. Confused and now in agony, the Normal-type thrashed wildly, its boosted strength from Work Up making its frantic movements unpredictable.
"Absorb," Gary said.
Golbat held on, tightening its grip. Its fangs pierced through to where blood ran close to the surface, and it began to drain.
For the first time since evolving, Golbat tasted real blood.
Something primal stirred in it immediately—a deep, instinctive bloodlust that hardened its focus.
"Ouch—!"
Herdier's legs buckled. The combination of blood loss, confusion, and the spreading toxin from Poison Fang was too much. Already disoriented and unable to protect itself, it crumpled to the ground and didn't move again.
"That's enough. Come back," Gary said calmly.
Golbat released its grip at once. Despite the hunger for more, it had enough self-control to obey while it wasn't starving. It pulled away and rose back into the air, the red gleam in its eyes slowly fading.
Gary looked down at the unconscious Herdier with a faint frown.
It still doesn't know how to use energy protection.
Herdier had been with Colby for what appeared to be several years. A Pokémon with that much experience should have learned the basics of internal energy management by now. Energy wasn't only useful for executing moves—it could be directed defensively, coating a vulnerable area to absorb incoming damage.
If Herdier had layered even a basic energy shield over its flank, Golbat's Absorb would have only drained surface-level energy rather than drawing real blood. The move had a base power of only 20; against a properly defended target, it would have done almost nothing.
Instead, because Herdier hadn't protected itself—and had been too disoriented from confusion to do so in the first place—the fangs had connected cleanly. Losing a few hundred milliliters of blood in a short span was enough to make even a large, healthy Pokémon collapse.
That was the brutal reality behind what looked like a one-sided sweep.
"Mr. Colby," Gary said, recalling Golbat. "I won."
Colby stood quietly for a moment, then nodded.
"You did." His voice was steady, without bitterness. "You're clearly different from the others who've come here asking for a Growlithe. Follow me."
He turned, and without further argument, led Gary back toward the breeding house.
The breeding house was a modest but well-maintained structure tucked behind the training field. When Colby opened the door, it revealed a surprisingly clean interior—individual enclosures lined the walls, each comfortably sized and fitted with modern heating panels and feeding systems. Each Growlithe had its own private space.
The moment the door swung open, a chorus of barking erupted.
"Woof!"
"Woof woof!"
"Woof—!"
Every Growlithe in the room immediately perked up at the sight of Colby, tails wagging or ears pricking forward in recognition.
Gary took in the scene with mild surprise. He had never seen so many Growlithe gathered in one place.
But his attention didn't linger on the main enclosures for long. His gaze drifted to the far end of the room—to a large, well-padded nest that occupied the entire back corner.
Lying inside was an Arcanine.
It was magnificent. Its cream and deep orange coat was impeccably clean, the distinctive black stripes marking its sides with clean, sharp lines. The star-shaped marking on its brow gleamed. It lay in a regal, composed posture despite the noise around it.
[Arcanine ♀ — Level 45 — Gym-tier]
So this was the mother.
Gym-tier potential wasn't bad, but Gary had privately hoped for better from a police department's breeding stock. Colby's Herdier had been Normal-tier. The station's Pokémon, on the whole, weren't as strong as he'd assumed they would be.
Colby walked to the nest and gently laid a hand on Arcanine's coat. The fire-type didn't tense or pull away—it shifted closer to his touch, comfortable and trusting.
"Arcanine," Colby said quietly, "the Trainer who's here to adopt one of your pups has arrived. I tested him myself. He's a capable Trainer. You can trust him with your child."
Arcanine raised its head at those words and turned to look at Gary.
The gaze was heavy—assessing, measured. This was a police dog that had faced criminals and kept order. Many people flinched under that stare.
Gary held its gaze evenly.
He felt a strong surge of admiration. Even from across the room, the Arcanine's presence was immense. He could understand why the original Gary's dream Pokémon had been an Arcanine.
This is exactly the kind of Pokémon worth raising.
"Hello, Arcanine," Gary said, stepping forward. "My name is Gary. I've come to adopt one of your children. I give you my word that I'll raise them well and look after them properly."
Arcanine regarded him in silence for a moment.
Then it let out a low, rumbling sound—not aggressive, but authoritative. A sound of decision.
"Woo."
Colby read it immediately. He had worked alongside Arcanine long enough to understand its communications without words.
"Arcanine has accepted. You may choose a Growlithe."
Gary looked around the room.
Seven or eight Growlithe occupied the various individual enclosures. His brow furrowed slightly.
"Are all of these the ones available for adoption?"
Colby shook his head and waved for Gary to follow.
Gary stepped forward and approached Arcanine's nest. As he drew closer, he noticed what he'd missed from a distance. Nestled beneath Arcanine's broad chest, tucked against her warm fur, were three small, striped pups.
They were noticeably younger and smaller than the other Growlithe in the room—far more compact, their markings still soft and new. These were the recently born litter. These were the three being offered for adoption.
Gary activated the Eye of Insight.
text
[Growlithe ♂ — Level 5 — Normal-tier]
[Growlithe ♂ — Level 5 — Quasi-Gym-tier]
[Growlithe ♂ — Level 5 — Normal-tier]
Gary stared at the data.
No wonder.
The mystery of the original Gary's Arcanine being one-shot by Snorlax's Hyper Beam finally made complete sense. In the original timeline, Gary had walked into a police station using Professor Oak's connections, taken whatever Growlithe they handed him without question, and ended up with a Normal-tier pup. Even with the best Fire Stone money could buy, a Normal-tier Growlithe would only reach Quasi-Gym potential after evolving. And Quasi-Gym capped out around Level 39.
An Arcanine at Level 39 being knocked out in a single hit by Snorlax wasn't a failure of training.
It was a failure of selection.
Gary exhaled. The best of these three was still only Quasi-Gym-tier—far below what he would have liked.
He honestly had little desire to take the Quasi-Gym pup. But the alternative was walking away empty-handed. Growlithe were extraordinarily rare in the wild, and the chance to encounter one with solid potential in open country was effectively zero.
More importantly, this adoption had been arranged through Professor Oak's personal connections. The station had bent its rules to accommodate the request. If Gary declined to take any of them, it would be a direct slight against his grandfather—an embarrassment Gary had no intention of causing.
"Woof!"
"Woof!"
"Woof!"
The three little Growlithe had noticed Gary. Their tiny tails wagged furiously, and they stared up at him with enormous, hopeful eyes—each one silently pleading to be the one chosen.